


Outfoxing the Hunt

by Obsessed Romantic (2SFlovers)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 12:02:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6078621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2SFlovers/pseuds/Obsessed%20Romantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone underestimates the 'mere human'. Stiles is going to show them why this is a bad idea because Human? Isn't as 'mere' as they think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Outfoxing the Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> There is violence, torture, racism, mental health issues, and lots of stuff like in the show. I will add tags for stuff that might trigger as I add chapters. Please don't read if any of that makes you uncomfortable.

-*-*-

 

Stiles stumbled as the Argent goons shoved him out of their SUV; only his grip on the door kept him from face-planting. The driver put the vehicle into gear, leaving him no choice but to release his support to avoid being dragged. He heard a chuckle as he lost his balance, ending up on his ass in the school parking lot not five feet from his beloved Jeep. His palms stung sharply from preventing a complete sprawl. He leaned forward and put a foot underneath himself to lever his aching body upright. _Wrong foot_ his brain shouted as his ankle throbbed at him. It wasn't sprained, he didn't think; but it was definitely twisted and sore. _Weak_ Gerard's voice taunted _weak and useless_. Tears welled up, his throat tightening with the effort not to let them fall as he slumped backwards to lay on the asphalt.

 

''Hey......Stiles? It's Stiles, right?''

 

''Gah!'' He couldn't help the full-body flinch away from the sudden appearance of another person. The guy (deputy, one of the new ones) froze, hand extended; before pulling his offer of help slowly back until both palms were raised in a gesture of surrender. He didn't say anything more, just stood there waiting for Stiles to get his panic under control. He appreciated it – it made it easier to calm himself down, actually. He blinked his vision clear (pain caused eye leakage, he wasn't crying, he wasn't) and tried to remember if he knew the guy's name. ''Uh.....Priest? No.... why am I thinking of Israel? Are you Jewish? Wow, that's insensitive, sorry. Church, no Pastor? I know it starts with a 'p', dude. Paul?''

 

''Parrish.'' The incredibly young-looking guy squatted down, smiling and lowering his arms. ''Your mnemonic tricks are pretty good. Deputy Jordan Parrish. You're Stiles, right? Stilinski's kid?'' He reached out again, eyes warm and friendly even with the obvious cataloging of Stiles' current state.

 

''Yeah.'' He waved off the hand, putting the **right** foot under himself this time. Staggering a little, he managed to get himself upright (with only a little arm flailing) and look around. The lot was pretty deserted – only his Jeep and the Deputy's cruiser were still there. ''Where's my Dad?''

 

''He went back to your place to look for a clue as to where you were.'' Parrish still had an arm extended. He apparently didn't have all that much confidence that Stiles wasn't about to fall right back down. As wobbly as he felt, the guy was probably more right than not. He focused on the conversation to give himself a distraction from his bruises, and how he'd gotten them. ''Everyone was pretty distracted with what happened to the Whittmore kid …....''

 

''Jackson?'' He grabbed onto the proffered forearm as the world tilted around him – more from shock than anything else, he was sure. What had Gerard **done** while his thugs were dragging him off to ….. _No_. He wasn't thinking of that. ''What happened to Jackson? Is Lydia all right? Is Scott? Who....?''

 

''Easy. Easy.'' Soothing, but not patronizing. Good tone. He could see why his Dad had hired the guy. There was an aura of safety, of strength to the man that he'd thought only his father could project. _Must_ b _e an ex-Army, current cop thing,_ he mused, observing the deputy's body language. _Or something_. ''Whittmore.......killed himself on the field. Ripped open his stomach somehow.'' The free hand moved in the air over his waist, fingers spread. _Clawed himself open. What the hell was going on_? ''Miss Martin followed him to the hospital.'' The clearing of his throat showed that he wasn't as comfortable with the topic under discussion as he was pretending. His eyes kept flicking to the mark on Stiles' cheek, questions welling up behind them. ''Scott..... McCall?'' He nodded. ''Is out looking for you.'' His free hand moved upwards and Stiles realized he was reaching for his radio.

 

''Wait!'' He grabbed the wrist with his free hand, ending up leaning most of his weight into the grips he had on the older man's forearms. Parrish didn't struggle, just widened his stance and waited for Stiles to steady himself. His forehead was creased, but he wasn't protesting the delay. Stiles didn't know what it was in his face that was convincing the guy to do things his way; but he wasn't going to argue with the results. Suddenly realizing just how far into each others personal space (chest to chest, breathing the same air) they'd ended up, he let go of his hold; pushing on the broad shoulders - _not the time, Stiles,_ _rein it in -_ to create some distance between them without losing his hard-won balance. From the slightly amused look he was getting, his physical reaction to the handsome _not_ _ **now**_ _, seriously_ deputy had been noticed. _Oh my God._ He was going to die of embarrassment before anyone got the chance to kill him. Thinking of Gerard reminded him.... ''I need to report a kidnapping.'' 

 

''And an assault.'' Parrish nodded. He frowned when Stiles shook his head. ''Someone beat you up, Stiles. That's assault of a minor. Add in kidnapping, and the fact that your father's the Sheriff; and the charge gets very serious. Whoever did this isn't getting away with it, okay?'' As if that was what he was worried about. Actually; a normal kid in this situation? That would be **exactly** what he was worried about. Instead, he was hoping, with the occasional fervent prayer, that his story was convincing enough to get the results he wanted. 

 

''Charges.'' Again with the frown. It was too adora..... dammit, not  **now** !  _Really_ . He was going to have to have a long talk with himself about appropriate thoughts about guys (and girls) who were way out of his league. Or maybe he just had a concussion. Yeah, that was it. He had a concussion. That was his story and he was sticking to it. Speaking of stories..... ''Three charges of kidnapping and assault. Torture is a crime, right? I don't know how precisely to class that, but it's definitely a hate crime of some kind....'' 

 

''Hate.....who? Stiles, who did this? **Why** did they do this?'' He had him now. All that law enforcement attention was directed his way, ready to listen – something he unfortunately wouldn't have gotten from his Dad or one of the more familiar deputies. Downside of growing up with an active imagination, high intelligence, and no extra-curricular activities to take up his time. Maybe, once this was over; he could get Scott to come clean to the Sheriff about the past few months and repair the Stilinski family bonds. _One crises at a time. Rescue first,_ _ **then**_ _repair._

 

''Who? Gerard Argent. Why? Because he's been using his son's business as a cover for his personal 'crusade'. It's also why he ordered his daughter to eliminate the Hales – someone in the family was looking into his activities and he wanted them silenced. She went completely overboard with it; but she was batshit, so.......'' The absolute best thing about his story was that it was almost totally true. Replace 'werewolves' with 'racism', add in some observations of sociopathic behavior on Gerard and Kate's parts; and you had a very believable tale of murder, vengeance, and madness. He was careful not to give too much detail as he continued to spin; painting Chris as blinded by family loyalty and Victoria as a victim of Gerard's psychological manipulations. Jackson was a recruit, fighting the brainwashing and drugs as best he could. Scott was the concerned boyfriend trying to save Allison from following her aunt's path and Stiles? ''I was just trying to help, even after the restraining order.'' He let emotion shake his voice, let the tears fall. He had an audience now; Parrish having called it in after he identified his attacker. The paramedics were making twitching motions in his direction; but Tara was insisting on gathering forensic evidence first. His father's face was like stone. He couldn't tell if he wasn't buying it, or if the man was just upset he couldn't hug his son. ''I should've told, I know; despite what Lydia asked...'' he hated throwing her under like that, but it made things more believable if he'd done what he had for a girl rather than some altruistic motivation ''….but I didn't think anyone would believe me.'' There. Let them feel guilty about treating him as the boy who'd cried wolf; despite the fact that he had, several times over. 

 

''Son....'' Oh God. He didn't believe him. He didn't believe him and Erica and Boyd were going to pay the price of his younger self's predilection for making shit up when bored.

 

''I can prove it!'' He knew he sounded desperate, but he really needed his father to believe him; for more than the safety of Derek's betas. He needed to know he hadn't damaged their relationship beyond repair with his youthful indiscretions. ''His boot! When he was.... when he was beating me up....'' and wasn't  **that** humiliating to confess, that an octogenarian had handed his ass to him ''….I swiped my thumb in my blood and pushed it into the inner arch of his boot.'' 

 

''And he didn't notice you doing that?'' There was less doubt in his voice, but it was still  **there** . Stiles was starting to get a little irritated. Yes, he'd told a lot of tall tales when he was a kid; but this level of disbelief was edging towards offensive. Did the man honestly think he'd done this to  **himself** ? 

 

''Well, Dad; I guess my pathetic blubbering for mercy as I clutched at his pants leg was pretty fucking convincing.'' Uncomfortable didn't even begin to describe the silence that descended. Usually, he'd say something stupid or inappropriate to distract, to amuse and lessen the tension. Not this time. This time he was going to let it build until he got what he wanted. Namely, a rescue party. 

 

''Young, call up Judge Anderson and read him in. We're going to need a warrant if we want this to stick. Miller, get a hold of Principal Hendricks and find out exactly  **why** he suddenly took a sabbatical. Try and see if Mr. Argent is even qualified for the position he's been holding. Sanchez, get over to the hospital and see if you can get Whittmore to agree to a tox screen.'' Stiles threw himself at his father, hugging him tightly. He was clutched back, but the orders kept coming. It probably wasn't easy to be professional when your kid was attached to your chest; but the Sheriff was pulling it off. No one questioned his decisions or authority. His staff scrambling to obey; the paramedics nodding, agreeing to hold back at the end of the block until the presence of the missing teenagers had been confirmed. Tara was delegated to be the one to knock and whoever ended up being in position would 'accidentally' drop the UV light so they could check Gerard's boot. Then the Sheriff started his final command. ''Parrish, take him......'' 

 

''No!'' He couldn't just sit at home! Not when all he could see was two sets of brown eyes – sympathetic, pleading – pain-filled and .....resigned. ''Dad! I promised.......I can't......'' He couldn't really articulate how much he wanted to be there when the betas were rescued. He didn't even know  **why,** it just seemed important. 

 

''You're hurt, Stiles. This man  **hurt** you. You.... I can't....'' Of all the times for his father to be over-protective. To be fair, he wasn't exactly looking forward to facing Psycho Grandpa again; but he needed to be there. Needed to see with his own eyes that his Catwoman and her boy-toy were okay. 

 

''Maybe seeing the kid will throw him off, make him slip up.'' God bless Parrish. Well, more than he already had. And he needed to stop  **that** train of thought right there before he popped wood while hugging his Dad. There wasn't enough therapy in the world to make that right. 

 

''You might be on to something.'' Stiles let his father push him to arms length and tried to keep his expression from becoming too hopeful or enthusiastic. This was some serious life and death shit, and he tried to convey he wasn't thinking of it like entertainment. ( _fuck, now that he thought of it; he owed_ _Derek an apology and a_ _ **half**_ ) He must've pulled it off, because the man nodded sharply and patted him gently on one shoulder. There was a brief moment when the Sheriff was obviously thinking, adjusting his strategy. Then he nodded again and spoke up so everyone could hear him. ''Okay. Here's what we're going to do.'' 

 

 


End file.
